With a scowling face, the British 'gentleman' as he was so self-acclaimed, trudged down the hallway of Hetalia High. It was a high school that accepted students from all over the world to gather and learn. The British boy was assigned to help tutor one of the other students who was failing in English. Oh bugger, what a bother. Well, anything was better than being interrupted with his studies by his rather... raunchy roommate. That man needed to keep it in his trousers.

 

This British boy was none other than Arthur Kirkland, from England. Or as he would correct people, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. He was rather fond of his home country, but was accepting of others. Always willing to learn the cultures of others --minus the French. They were frogs who wanted nothing more than to fool around. He learned that from his roommate, Francis Bonnefoy. Not that Arthur wanted to go on a tangent about the man right now. No, he needed to get to the classroom before the other boy did. Tardiness was not acceptable. He was a gentleman after all.

 

Arthur tugged at the sleeve of his blue blazer. Bloody uniform, it was uncomfortable to say the least, being used to form fitting jeans, and a punk band t-shirt --or polo shirt depending if he was going out-- instead of the button-up shirt, sweater vest, blazer, and plaid pants of the school's uniform. At least he looked dignified, said his parents when he put the uniform on. It took away the punk-ish look from his disheveled hair and thick, thick eyebrows. Arthur always smiled, and chuckled, to himself at the thought. He thought clothes made the person --hence why he dressed up, even if only slightly, in public--, people were judged on their appearance. At that thought, he straightened his blazer out as he arrived at the empty English classroom. He peaked inside; no one there. Thank fish and chips no one was in there.

 

"Well then, I guess I have some time to spare," was what he said on the outside. On the inside his 'incredibly handsome' devilish side went on about scenarios that could happen when the other student arrived. He seemed to favor the one along the lines of him sitting nonchalant at a desk, reading a book, and the student walks in. He'd snap the book shut, look all calm and cool in front of the student and say, "You know, you're quite late you tosser." Yes, that one would work just fine. Although, as sat on top of on of the desks, he knew that he could never pull that off. After all, something always seemed to mess him up. Arthur sighed and pulled at the messy blond hair atop of his head; quite a nervous habit of him.

 

What if the other student didn't like him? Or what if he thought he was too nerdy? Or what if he just refused to not be taught? The possibilities were endless as he listed them off in his head. Now that he thought about it, studying in his dorm room didn't seem so bad after all.

A large sized Coca-Cola in his hand, Alfred F. Jones walked down the hallways of the high school. He was in no hurry at all. Who in their right mind would hurry to get to a tutoring session anyways? Not Alfred, that's for sure. Plus, does he even need tutoring? Heroes don

This boy was definitely American, no mistaking that. The New England accent was unmistakable --the sound was cheese graters to his ears after all, he wouldn't forget a noise he loathed. Arthur looked over the other student. He was upset when he had to look up not down or straight ahead at the bloke. No, he had to look up, oh bloody hell, why did he have to be the shorter one! For once he'd love to have someone smaller than himself.

 

Arthur pushed that thought aside, because whether he liked it or not, he'd be tutoring this kid for the next few weeks, possibly months. He just hoped the guy wouldn't end up being so late next time! Or-- Did he just use the excuse of being attacked by bears? Was this wanker really expecting him to fall for such an excuse? Not blooming likely.

 

Straightening himself out, and crossing his arms over his chest, the British man glared at the American. "Put a sock in it, you git. I'm here to tutor you, not to joke around. I don't want to be here as much as you do, so it's best we get this over with. The only way we can do that is if you arrive here on time. No excuses."

 

Arthur then walked over to the the bookshelf on the side of the room. From what the head of the tutoring department said, this guy was having trouble in his British Literature, understanding the context and all that. Apparently his class was currently reading Macbeth. That book was a masterpiece, just like the rest of Shakespeare's works! How could he be having trouble in it? Arthur mentally sighed as he grabbed two of the books off the shelf and walked over to two desks. He sat down in one of them and set the books down.

 

"Well, are you just going to stand there all day waiting for a willy to be shoved in your mouth or are you going to sit down so we can get started?" Arthur snapped at the boy impatiently. That's when some of his mother's teachings reached his memory. Grudgingly he apologized for his temper and said, "Where's my manners? My name is Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland. And, you are...?" Trying to wait patiently, the British 'gentleman' waited for the name of the American bloke.

Alfred was right. This boy was from the country that use to own his country. That would be no good... What if this guy thought he was better than him? He seemed the snooty rich kid type. Alfred didn't want this guy tutoring him.

But since he was British, he

Alfred F. Jones, what a ridiculous sounding name. It was like a name you'd give to a mutt, it didn't help that this boy was American. No, Arthur wasn't racist, it's just that he had a rough past involving an American boy. He used to have a boy he'd play with, one he considered a younger brother. That is, until the boy started doing things better than him, whether it'd be in sports, or just charming people. The whole meanwhile in their friendship the boy would talk about how great America was. Their history, their fight for freedom, everything. He just couldn't see why the boy didn't think of Great Britain with that kind of respect. The two grew apart, and then the boy's family moved away from the UK to the United States. Now, Arthur wasn't fond of Americans because of his childhood friend.

 

Although, it wasn't just the fact that Alfred was American that made him an annoyance to Arthur. No, it was because the guy was a bloody pain in the arse! Such an arrogant moron. Arthur glared at the boy and flipped one of the books open to the first page. "If you're such a 'badass' as you claim yourself to be," he scanned the page, looking for a specific line in the play, "Then tell me what this line means, who it is said by, and what the importance is to the rest of the play, 'Fair is foul, and foul is fair.'"

 

It was a simple line, and one of the major motifs in the play. The line meant that nothing was as it appeared to be. Not only applying to the traitor in the beginning of the story, but to Macbeth, his wife, and the three witches in the beginning as well. Arthur hoped the surely Alfred would be able to understand that. If this man couldn't, then he had a lot of work to do. Either that, or he'd swear at the other bloke a bit, throw the book across the room in anger, and knock the desks down in his rampage out of the room. The Brit was angered easily, and he had a feeling he'd be showing the Yank just a taste of English rage. Oh bloody hell, what he wouldn't give for some ale right now. But no, the school just had to have a rule against liquor on campus. Bloody hell, if he were back in the United Kingdom right now he'd be drinking a pint right now.

 

Arthur waited patiently for Alfred's answer --okay actually he was trying to hold back an irritated look, trying to look at least semi-friendly, and drumming his fingers against the desk. Though, there was a feeling that he'd be waiting a while for the other to answer. In the meanwhile, he took the time to examine the American. The first thing he couldn't help but notice the boy had blue eyes. That made a vein in his head twitch. Blue eye like frog Francis'. His hair was kept neat, except for a strand that stuck up on his head. Just seeing it made the tiny bit of OCD in him want to flatten it down, but he respected the boy's space. Then there was his glasses. Gee, Arthur always thought that glasses made the wearer look smarter. Now that theory was proven wrong.

 

It's not that the boy was ugly. No, he was quite handsome for a man. Not that Arthur was gay or anything; he had no problem with homosexuals, he was just quite straight thank you very much. But he was better looking than some of the other guys on campus, the girls were probably thankful for that. Most likely one of his friends named Elizaveta must be happy about it. After all, she's been looking for someone to date to make her ex-boyfriend, Gilbert, jealous. Arthur suggested she'd date Roderich, an Austrian boy whom she'd be friends with since childhood, but she didn't want to ruin their friendship. Ah, the troubles of dating. Mainly why Arthur stayed out of the whole ordeal until he was out of school; too much drama to distract him from his studies.

 

((How is it that it's so much easier for me to reply to this thread than to our Bromance one? And how the hell am I still writing big replies? xDD))

In all honesty, Alfred had no idea what Arthur had just said.

 

He took the other book and quickly glanced at the page number Arthur was on and turned to it, scanning the words for the line he just read. Maybe he

Alfred's response wasn't a huge surprise to Arthur. It sounded like the typical answer to one who was just beginning to read Shakespeare. "That's what some would think at a first glance, but you really shouldn't judge something by their appearance," Arthur flipped through a few pages before continuing, "And that's actually what the line means; don't judge by appearances. This pops up often throughout the whole play. For example: Macbeth plans on killing King Duncan while he pretends to be loyal under his rule." He paused, letting the information sink into the thick skull of the American boy.

 

That's when he thought that perhaps he should somehow rephrase what he said. Maybe make it easier for him to understand. Arthur ran a hand through his messy hair and furrowed his eyebrows. "Try to think of it this way: Say you're the governor of California in the United States. You're then promised by three old ladies that you'll then become the governor of Texas, while still being the governor of California. And then, you're promised to become the president. Then, messengers from the president find you and inform you that you've been appointed the governor of Texas.

 

"Surely the three old ladies were right when they said that you'd become president. After all, you became the governor of Texas, just as they prophesied. With that thought in mind, you start to believe you'd become president. The only way for that to happen, however, is to go against your current president, and kill him, while still pretending to be loyal to him." Arthur leaned back in his chair, closing the book. He was lost while thinking about the past of England and the other European countries. It was quite often that there'd be traitors, overthrown kings, and revolutions throughout the medieval ages. He held his chin in the palm of his hand, concluding the point he'd been trying to make. "And that's what 'Fair is foul, and foul is fair' means. You were promised to become president: fair. Although you'd have to go against your loyalty to your country, and kill the current president to become what you desire: foul. Make sense Alfred?"

 

((I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO POST, I'M SORRY! Dialogue only fills up so much ;A; ))

Alfred listened intently, trying to make sense of the way Arthur explained it. The first time, he felt even more confused than before so he gave Arthur a blank look. He watched as the British boy furrowed his rather bushy eyebrows and tried explaining it once more.

 

He mentioned the governer of California and immediately Alfred thought of Arnold Schwarzenegger. For sure,he'd be understand it this time if he related it to the wonderful U. S. of A. And sure enough, he understood it the second time around.

 

"I think I get it," he said. "Basically it's saying that to become something or get something that was good, you'd have to commit something unfair or go against your morals." Alfred wasn't sure if he said it correctly, but he was 99.9% he got it now.

 

Perhaps it was like the American Revolution, Alfred thought.

 

"It's like when the New England colonies wanted to have a say in what they were taxed, which was fair, but England didn't let them which caused the war, which was foul, in order for America to get it's freedom. Right?"

 

((I'm like... unimaginative right now 8D))

Arthur mentally jumped for joy. This American wasn't a lost case after all! All he needed was for the text to be worded differently. Just why did it have to be about America? Bloody git. "Yes, exactly," he choked out, trying to hide the twitch of his eyebrows in annoyance, "It seems that comparing Macbeth to America seems to help you understand. Do I have to explain anything more to you about the motif in Act I?"

 

Before the British man could hear a reply, there was a chuckle coming from outside the classroom. It was all too familiar to him. The "Hon hon hon~" Lingered, making Arthur's face pale. No. He couldn't be here. Not him. The one man he possibly hated more than Americans. Perverted frog, always butting into my business! He screamed in his head. It took all of his will power to keep himself from tearing out his hair.

 

And there he was, leaning on the door frame ever-so-casually. His roommate: Francis Bonnefoy.

 

"Bonsoir my fiery roommate!" The Frenchman greeted, strutting into the room until he reached Arthur's desk. Arthur mentally groaned: he just had to come and most likely turn this situation dirty, didn't he? "So I see you have company. Why is it that you don't have him pinned to the desk? Arthur is being a shy one, non?" Francis casually threw out, making the Englishman blush deep red. That toad! He knew Arthur was straight, he made it quite clear on the first day of school when he was unsuccessfully seduced by the French pervert!

 

"You wanker, that's bollocks! Sod off why don't you? I'm sure you've got some floozy waiting for you up in they woman's dorm," Arthur growled. He was now standing up, ready to punch the git if necessary.

Alfred was going to ask him to basically, explain all of Act I, and he was probably going to get a tongue lashing but he was saved by some weird French guy laughing at the doorway.

 

He found Arthur's expression hilarious though. He looked scared to death and viciously angry at the same time. Alfred had no idea how he could actually manage a look like that but he did and it took all of the American boy's will power not to laugh.

 

The Frenchie barged in, walking as if he were on a catwalk, greeting Alfred's tutor.

 

Pinned to a desk...? Alfred just watched silently as Arthur's face turned completely red. Was it possible that his tutor was gay? Alfred didn't think it seemed possible. He was a good looking guy and surely he'd probably had some girlfriends, but he didn't seem like the gay type.

 

Now the Frenchie, how he seemed like he would be the gay one. But according to the threat Arthur gave to the guy, he wasn't. Maybe bisexual?

 

Alfred was actually thinking about that so much, he didn't realize that Arthur had stood up, looking pissed off more than anything.

 

Damn he looked scary.

 

((lolfail))